Haggle
by GBJosh
Summary: As a baby, Lucifer's father left him. During a trip to market Lucifer's mother is thrown in prison, taken from her son. Years later, when Lucifer is released into a 'recovery town' to overcome his past, he comes face-to-face with what caused his trauma.
1. Prologue

**Chronicles of Elm St: **_**Haggle**_

**Prologue **

"Come, my son, we're going to market to pick us up some breakfast."

"OK, mom!" the five year old boy with blonde hair and hazel eyes piped excitedly, "Can we pick up some fresh peaches? They're my favorite!"

"I know, son… I know."

Lucifer and his mother walked from their modest, stone house and down a dirt trail to the main road leading to market.

"Mom?" Lucifer spoke while still swinging his arm back in forth with his mother, disturbing the quaint silence of the country.

"What is it, son?" his mother asked, she swung her and Lucifer's arms, too, more enthusiastically.

"You're not… not going to steal again… are you?" the hazel-eyed boy asked, his stomach cringed at the word steal.

Lucifer's mother let go of his hand and crouched down to her knees, looking compassionately into her son's eyes. "Hunny, you know I only steal things because we don't have the money… when your father left me three years ago… we just couldn't afford many things."

"I know… but I don't want you to leave me like dad did… and last time we were almost caught robbing by those men!" the boy cried tenderly.

His mother wiped the single tear rolling down his cheek. Despite their life of poverty and theft, she remained a remarkably beautiful woman—her fingertips were soft and lulling.

"I won't steal anything this time," she hushed standing up and taking his hand in hers, "I will never, ever leave you, Lucifer, I promise."

Lucifer's hand tightened around his mother's, the two saw the first caravan as rounding the hill near the market place.

The market was always flocked of poor and rich animals and humans alike. 'The merchants who run the caravans and side shops are shifty and deceitful,' Lucifer's mother would always say to him, 'Never trust a word they say because they lie through their teeth just to get your Bells. Their wares are usually feeble and over-priced,' she would continue on, 'Never leave my side when we're in the market.'

Walking past two sword-wielding hippos, Lucifer pushed up closer against his mother, it was the same two tyrannical hippos that accused his mother of stealing a bangle from a peddler's stand—they barely escaped even though his mother was guilty. Those hippos were hired by the government to look over the market square and arrest any thieves or beggars. The market streets seemed especially crowded this day, the rustling of shuffling feet droned on and the misleading, eager shouts of all the merchants and peddlers boomed in Lucifer's curious and susceptible ears.

"So, 'ou like my merchandise, chil'? I gave you 'ou a deal, a very fine deal!" one rat merchant hollered from the front of his wooden stand. His purple fur was matted and extremely unkempt. His two front teeth were horribly stained and jut from his chapped lips, while his whiskers were wiry and disproportionate. He hauled a flamboyant shirt off the rack and stuffed it in Lucifer's face.

"Get your scams from my son, vermin," Lucifer's mother hissed irksomely, pulling her son along the street with her.

As the pair walked the bustling streets, Lucifer found it hard to resist the tempting claims of the merchants. Many of their things looked exotic and valuable… he longed for them. He saw their regular fruit stand in the distance; beside it was a jewelry stand which his mother had enviously thought of stealing from more than once.

"Here we are, son, our trusty fruit stand," his mother said releasing his hand and walking towards the barrels brimming with all kinds of fruit. "Come pick a nice, ripe one, son," his mother beckoned.

Lucifer heard his mother and his stomach's growls for a peach, but the caravan next to the fruit stand intrigued him. Despite the rickety wood the wares were displayed on, he saw many flashy, expensive things: the most radiant gemstones; golden watches and rings; finely woven dresses made of divine silk fabric; but what really amazed Lucifer were these two statues. Stone lion statues, they stood chest to chest with their backs arched regally, their manes a deep green that were perfectly painted around their heads and down their backs. Both lions' mouths barred showing vicious teeth that demanded respect, but what was most prominent were their eyes; exquisitely round, crimson jewels that sparkled dazzlingly in the sunlight.

As if drawing Lucifer to them or calling his name, Lucifer approached the statues dauntingly with his tiny hands open wide, his body coursing with desire.

He was mere inches from touching one of them when his mother stepped in front, her back facing the caravan.

Peering slowly up at his mother with his large, oval eyes glassy, her face was furrowed with disappointment. He knew he had wronged her.

"Son, how many times must I tell you, no touching these things, don't even seem interested, the merchants can pick that up and they'll haggle with you," Lucifer's mother scolded quietly yet sternly.

"Haggle…?" Lucifer asked, not knowing what that meant.

"Ah, so another who believes we're all bad," a voice snaked from behind Lucifer's mother.

She turned around to face the peddler and stood directly in her son's vision.

"My son must be forgiven, he is only young, we had no intention of buying those lions," she said venomously, her voice hinted urgency.

"I can cut you a fine deal, these two have brought much sorrow and suffering into my life, I want rid of them… how about 25,000 bells?" the peddler spoke slowly and conspicuously.

"I said we had no intention of buying… we must be going."

"No? No deal? Fine, you drive a hard bargain but 10,000 is my final offer, I'll be in the poor house with such a deal," he continued. Lucifer saw him eyeing him through the gap in his mother's legs which he was peeking through shyly.

"Good bye, have a good day," my mother spat bluntly, grabbing Lucifer's hand.

"No! Please, no my friends! You mustn't leave me… 4,000 bells, that is truly a spectacular offer!" the peddler hollered running to the outside of his caravan and to the small boy. "Boy, I can tell you want those lions… they contain a secret and grant wishes to those to who possess them! For a meager 2,000 bells both the Lion and Lioness are yours!" he bawled, eyes set frantically upon Lucifer's.

"Mom…?"

"If they grant wishes than wish for a clue, because no is no!" Lucifer's mother barked and yanked Lucifer to the fruit stand.

Bringing Lucifer close to a barrel, his mother whispered to him while pretending to inspect the fruit. "See what happens when you act interested? The slightest thing and they spark up, shouting false things just to get you to buy…"

Lucifer nodded, heartbroken, he now had a burning desire for the two statues but he would and could never hurt his mother by being disobedient.

"I am sorry, son… these fruit will cheer you up. I have enough money to buy some for tomorrow, too. Just pick out a peach you want."

Lucifer sighed and found a plump one with a single purple spot, shaped like an eye. He tugged on his mother's pant and she picked it from him and put it on the counter along with some other fruit.

"600 bells, my dear patron," the alligator running the fruit stand said plainly.

Lucifer's mother took out a thin wallet and slipped the exact change onto the counter. The alligator placed all the fruits in a brown, paper bag. His mother had stopped to chat with the man, he was a family friend. Lucifer reached up for his mother's hand and held it tightly, he turned around to the stand where the lions were, and he no longer saw the shady peddler at the caravan.

Moments later he saw the peddler through the crowd of animals and humans, leading the two hippos through the crowd with a look of anger embedded into his face. He was shouting something in a frenzied manner and walking briskly.

Thinking nothing of it, he turned around but then he felt a force throw him backward.

"What did you steal this time, beggar!?" The fatter of the two hippos had seized his mother by the hand and was now twisting it.

Lucifer's mother let out shrill cries and tried to speak, but the hippo slapped her across the face when she tried. Small sprinkles of blood and saliva splattered the ground.

"Stop you brute! Leave my momma alone!" Lucifer cried furiously and ran to the hippo. He futilely beat his fists against his thigh but it was no use.

"Hah! Is this your beggar son? Not setting a good example for him, he'll be a street rat just like you when he's out of diapers!" the hippo scoffed cruelly, pointing a finger at Lucifer, his rotten breath engulfing Lucifer's nose.

"I'm five, I don't wear diapers… and stop saying that! My momma is a good person!" he screamed, tears streaming down his face.

"Your dirty mother is about as good as brain damage," the hippo roared in Lucifer's face.

Snatching him by the arm, he wound up his hand then smacked him across the street.

Lucifer fell hard into the dirt; it filled his mouth and his eyes. Already he could feel bruises clotting on his body.

"Don't touch my son, don't you ever touch him!" his mother screamed, thrashing her arms at the hippo that was holding her.

The hippo snickered and tossed his mother to the dirt, too.

"This is the one who stole your ring, right?" he asked, turning to the peddler.

The peddler clasped his hands together and looked wrathfully down at the woman in the dirt: "Yes, sir, that is her, she snuck one of my valuable rings into her back pocket after using her son as a distraction! That vile waste of bones is indeed the wench who stole from me, kind sir!"

"You beggars make me sick," the hippo spat. "STAND UP!"

The hippo gave her no time to stand, while his greasy words still lingered in the smothering air, he had kicked his mother in the chest. She flew up against the wooden bottom of the fruit stand, through her untamed hair her face twisted with pain.

Lucifer sat in the dirt still on the other side of the street, but through the legs of the crowd he saw everything that was going on. With each person that passed him, he would look into their eyes desperately and frantically, sending a silent prayer to them to save him and their mother, to at least shed a tear of concern. But as if what was going on around them was an everyday event, they walked casually past the dirt-stained, bawling boy, the woman groveling and beaten at their feet, and the cruel roars of the hippo. Lucifer was sure that his mother stole nothing, she promised she wouldn't. He wanted to help his mom but his leg hurt too much now, he couldn't stand on it.

"I have stolen nothing! I am innocent!" Lucifer's mother roared as the hippo wrenched her to her feet and put his hand in her back pocket. "Stop touching me, I do not have this liar's crummy ring!"

The hippo growled angrily and opened up his hand, inside was a golden ring, in the center of the ring was a sapphire—it was the largest Lucifer had ever seen. Lucifer was devastated, he could hardly contain himself. He broke down into hysterical wails, throwing himself against the hard, rough dirt street repeatedly.

"Liar! You're a filthy liar!" the peddler screamed at Lucifer's mother, he marched toward the hippo and snatched the ring from him. Before leaving, he mustered spit and emptied it upon his mother's tunic.

"Finally, I've got you, dirty beggar," the hippo growled into the mother's ear and slammed her against the side of the fruit stand.

The brown bag Lucifer's fruit was in soared through the air. It landed a few inches from the hippos, but on its side. Through his swelling tears Lucifer saw a peach roll through the crowd and next to his foot, the peach's small, purple eye peering at him.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One **

Lucifer let the warm water of the shower rush down his face then fall down his back and chest. Snatching a weathered bar of yellow soap—at the stage where it was waxy and small and squished between your fingers when you used it—he ran it against his side. Suddenly, he heard frantic bangs from the outside of the bathroom door, the dins strangled slightly by the billowing steam in the cramped bathroom.

"Hurry it up, orphan!" called the patronizing Sister Margaret. "Your five minutes of washing are up; other orphans need to use it, too!"

"_Why can't she ever call us by our real names…?_" he thought. "_The only reason that crooked, raisined hag is still here is because her great grandmother founded the orphanage. _I'll be just a second!" he called out, the steam and the water's roar drowning him out.

Putting down the soap that molded around his fingers, and then twisting the tarnished knob right—the sound of the water lashing the floor halting—he stepped out of the tub. Even with the sound of the shower off, Sister Margaret kept pounding her fists against the door.

"Hurry, orphan, hurry, we don't have five years!"

"_Hopefully you'll be dead by then…Why can't she just shut up and leave me alone?_" Lucifer reached to the counter, grabbing the frayed towel and wrapping it tightly around his waist. "At least I am leaving soon…" he muttered, trusting the humidity in the room to keep his words from reaching the other side of the door.

Lucifer looked into the clouded-up mirror and rubbed a spot clean, looking into it. Peering back at him were the perfectly set, hazel eyes of his father and the thick, golden, cow-licked hair of his mother. Lucifer was always told as a very small child he was the 'spit' of his parents, smiling on the outside but resenting it on the inside—he wanted nothing to do with either of his parents and didn't want to end up like them, not even appearance-wise.

His father was an insincere coward and his mother a corrupt liar—even though at times Lucifer missed his parents and wondered what was going on in their lives, the grudge of what they had done to him was branded into his brain.

In fact, Lucifer hated his whole family, all of them incompetent of caring for a child. Like a collectable object, Lucifer was traded from distant family member to distant family member, godparent to godparent, and guardian to guardian. Every one of them abandoned Lucifer on the excuses of homicide, suicide, and negligence; like a dark cloud of oppression and despair loomed over Lucifer's head and stalked him everywhere he went, he was not able to be raised. It got to the point where Lucifer had run out of willing family members and adoptees; he was then carelessly thrown into a poverty-stricken cesspool dubbed, St. Shrunk's Orphanage.

Lucifer twisted the handle of the bathroom door and walked out, Sister Margaret stood there with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face, her shape unflattering and brick-like within the black dress, the one she always wore.

"What do you think you're doing?!" she spat.

"What do you mean what am I doing? _Stupid wench_."

"Taking up extra time in the shower! Water is money and money you don't have!" sneered Sister Margaret, the wispy, numerous hairs on her upper-lip flew up and down, as if living, breathing creatures groping desperately.

"_Gross, take a razor to that thing._ I needed a little extra time for my special day," Lucifer scoffed, rolling his eyes and closing the door to his bunk room, leaving Margaret in a permanent cross scowl.

Lucifer thought his room—and his life in fact—was terribly drab and depressing, walking in and facing the truth he would be leaving today, made him hope this was the last time he would ever have to see this room again.

The walls were coated in a choppy, beige paint, which chipped in many spots. Along with the paint, dents decorated the walls, too. Two beds on either side of the room, both only small enough to fit one person_._ The beds had a down-filled blanket and a single, flat pillow. Besides this, there was a mirror hung on the back of the door and two wardrobes, one for Lucifer and one for Lucifer's roommate—Moe. In his roommate's bed was a lump, the cat who he shared the room with was sluggish so it was normal for him to be out cold in the middle of the day. He found it odd, though, he was not snoring throatily as he usually did from the moment slumber hit at night to the time he awakes in the afternoon—or morning, depending on if they're woken early for some reason.

Lucifer exhaled a deep sigh, and then looked on the bright side; at least he was starting a new life, away from the dragged-out tragedy he lives in now. After giving himself a thorough dry, he dropped the towel and went to his wardrobe and took out his clothes.

There was a rapping at his door, it was opening docilely and on the other side was the comforting voice of Sister Bethany. Sister Bethany—unlike Margaret—was a pleasant woman and maybe the only thing about the orphanage he would ever miss. Sister Bethany was considerate and took after Lucifer when he first got transported to the orphanage at the tender age of eight. Always treating him better than the other children, Bethany would slip him extra jell-o at dinner and read him stories before bed—never fairytales… Lucifer had always hated those.

If this was obvious favoritism over him or if it was that she pitied him, Lucifer wasn't too sure, but it was the only form of love he had as a child and he loved her back, though he was poor at expressing it.

"Lucifer… sweetheart… are you ready to leave? Your taxi is waiting by the steps," she called into the room, peeking her head through the crack.

Immediately, Lucifer dropped his clothes and threw the towel around him in frenzy, he felt his cheeks burn up and taint red. "Almost, Sister…" he replied back awkwardly, fumbling the towel around his waist.

"Oh, Lucifer, no need to be embarrassed, it's nothing I haven't seen before," she teased from back behind the door. "Get dressed quickly; I want to talk to you." Lucifer heard her say followed by the clicking of his door closing.

"_I'll put on my nicest clothes…_" he thought, "_Not like I have any 'nice' clothes anyway._"

Once dressed, Lucifer rubbed the towel briskly across his hair, just to finish drying it off. He searched briefly the naked room for his suitcase, he couldn't find it; he went out the door to find Sister Bethany, with the intentions of asking her where it was.

"There you are, Lucifer!" he heard her cry from behind him.

He turned to face her, "Hi, Sister."

"Congratulations on finally being old enough to leave, I am so proud off you!" she cried, thrilled and threw her arms over Lucifer.

"_That's a first…_Thanks, Sister… it means a lot, everything you've done for me over the years."

"I cannot believe you're finally sixteen! It seems like just a while ago I was chasing you around the orphanage trying to get you in bed!" Bethany stopped hugging Lucifer and clasped her hands on his shoulders.

"_Those times are over_."

"Well… you should be off, the taxi driver seems a tad impatient… we'll keep in touch, Saturday nights I'll call you, just to make sure you're not into anything. Sound like a deal?"

Lucifer nodded compassionately and gave her another quick hug.

"This place will definitely be different without that beaming smile o' yours…" Bethany teased, popping Lucifer's collar before flattening it back down, fixing what ever was wrong with it before.

"Rest assured you're the only person I'll miss in this hellhole, Sister. I am looking forward, kind of, to starting a new life… you know?"

"Oh, yes, just remember to be _accepting_"—she stressed the word, a sparkle of accusation in her eyes—"you'll nab more flies with honey than vinegar!"

He rolled his eyes, half-jokingly, half-not. "It's catch, not nab, and that saying is so stupid."

The fire of a car horn came stampeding down the hallway, meeting their ears.

"Excellent, I can tell already the ride there will be a fun one."

Their gaze at each other before locked; Lucifer severed it as he began to walk down the hallway, feinting away from Bethany.

"Oh! Lucifer, I almost forgot!" she spoke, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. "Your suitcase, I packed it this morning. It's mandatory for us to include 1,000 bells when our children leave. I saved up some additional cash over the years… and tucked away little bits of my salary, don't tell, but you'll find 20,000 bells in the very bottom of your suitcase… don't be foolish and spend it all in one place though, you're not an indulgent guy, so you have my faith." Bethany told Lucifer, holding his hand tightly.

Lucifer was a bit blown away by her generosity, never had Lucifer had so much money all his life. "I cannot thank you enough, Sister… I owe you my sanity."

Bethany smiled and lovingly slapped Lucifer's arm. "Go on you… have fun and be careful out there. I know you know this more and me, but life is tough… this orphanage has been rocky, but there are some real lunatics out there, ones you best space yourself from."

Lucifer gave her _the_ final hug and a gentlemanly kiss to the cheek. Allowing his lips to trail from her fair skin, he began walking down the long hallway, to the porch. He was so concentrated on enjoying his new life, and all he could hear the long walk down was the erratic clicking off his holey shoes hitting the floor until:

"I love you, Lucifer…"

Lucifer was now in the porch, he paused and hesitated. He could not see Bethany now, but he could feel her almost forlorn presence in the hallway, her entire figure breathless, lingering for Lucifer's response. All he could see was the very porch which was the opening of his miserable childhood. He was flooded with memories, none of them pleasant, whirring slightly, Lucifer became genuinely flustered.

He cringed, grinding his teeth, the handle of his suitcase growing clammy beneath his fist.

"_Can I really love you…?_"

Lucifer solemnly walked out the door and down the cobblestone steps, toward the brown taxi that had its horn blaring obnoxiously, leaving Bethany desolate and waiting.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

As Lucifer approached the taxi, the driver continued to screech the horn, its shrill cry slicing mercilessly the mundane clouds which were draped overhead.

"_Idiot._" Lucifer banged twice against the back door on the left side, signaling the driver to stop and that he had arrived. He then opened the door up and told the driver to open the trunk; in response he got a haggard grunt. "_Idiot._"

Lucifer slammed the door closed and walked around to the back. He urgently opened the trunk because the fumes of exhaust pipes made Lucifer cough violently; this wonder of a machine was expelling exhaust like no tomorrow, it loomed around him like thick haze and filled his nose with the gritty stench. Taking his single, leather suitcase he threw it into the trunk along with a mess of the cabbie's junk such as a rope, a shovel, a 10-gauge, and a spare tire.

"_Wonder if this cabbie will be my reaper for the first day I am reborn into the world?_"

Lucifer tossed himself into the stiff backseat of the taxi, sitting upright like always. The material was hard and jutting irritably into his back, though it appeared soft on sight.

"Go on, I am ready."

Driving down the asphalt driveway of Lucifer's long time home, other orphans peered out their windows some in jealously and some in amazement—none of the faces made him regret the move—they meant nothing to Lucifer.

As the environment-deadening vehicle passed through the gates, releasing Lucifer from his anguished prison, he caught a gentle face gazing through the curtain of his old room. Bethany watched the taxi drive off into the horizon as Lucifer brushed a solitary tear off his face, his fingertips harsh and unforgiving.

"How much is this ride?" Lucifer asked, a few grueling minutes into the trip and already feeling extremely agitated.

"I charges me customers by 'da miles we drives."

"_That's not what I wanted to know._ Well how many miles is this place from here?"

"Aye?"

"_This guy carries a fine conversation… He might as well be dead_," Lucifer thought grimly.

Lucifer didn't answer back, he didn't want to. Lucifer hated making small talk with people, especially people like this. His whole teenage life, where social skills are generally gained, Lucifer spent cooped up inside that orphanage, talking to a few of the other dysfunctional children and teenagers, but never really finding a companion besides Sister Bethany.

"So tell me… arrrrr, sorry lad, me never caught yer name?" the cabbie said, his eyes veering to the rear-view mirror.

Lucifer went to talk but the CB radio in the taxi went off.

"_Krttttttzzz_… Dispatch six! _Zrrrrrrrrrr_! Dispatch six! Are you th—_SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS_..."

"Argh, this radio causes me all kinds 'o troubles, I can 'ever tell what me boss wants 'o me… I'll flip 'er off!" the cabbie cried jovially and twisted the biggest knob on the ancient radio. The uproar was cut, its hisses and gags suspended still in mid-air. "So, b'y what were ye sayin'?"

"Lucifer. My name is Lucifer," he spoke, hoping the distain he felt for the cabbie was picked up.

"Aye, Lucifer. Bit of an odd name for a pup in our times… Well, delighted to meetcha Lucifer! The name's Kapp'n."

"My father wanted me called Lucifer; it was his decision on my name…" Lucifer told nostalgically, but a bad nostalgic which Lucifer thought of when his father left after the huge blowout with his mother. "_Did bad nostalgia even exist?_" He thought wearily, "_Probably not…only in my special case._"

"Aye, me father named me too… tell me, where is your father now?" Kapp'n asked.

At this question Lucifer's eyes darted out the steamed-up window and to the rear-view mirror. Kapp'n was looking at Lucifer's through it, but as he looked back his head ducked down.

Lucifer wasn't sure if he intended upset with this question or if he was just a plain moron. Picking him up from an orphanage, he should've known it was an ignorant question.

He felt his hands curl into fists and his eyes narrow into spiteful slits—in his mind he was outraged against what this mere cabbie thought he was tapping into.

Lucifer spotted Kapp'n eyeing him through the rear-view mirror again, his eyes, that were narrowed in the first place, carried scorn and accusations, but when Lucifer saw Kapp'n staring at him in the window, Kapp'n looked down and back at the road immediately.

"Well, I came from an orphanage so my father is somewhere without me and without wanting me, isn't that obvious?" Lucifer snapped, his voice distraught and condemning.

Now the only noise was the repetitive sound of the windshield wipers scrapping across the glass, picking up the early drips of an approaching rainstorm. Dwelling in the awkward silence of the taxi, Lucifer scribbled a swear about the cabbie in the window by his side. When he saw Kapp'n glancing through the rear-view mirror with his eyebrows raised angrily, Lucifer covered up his swear with a sudden swipe across the condensing glass.

Out of nowhere, Kapp'n's voice sounded. "Do ye miss yer father and yer mother?"

"_Die. Die. Die. Die._"

"Did you love them?"

"_Die. Die. Die. Die._"

"Are they dead?"

"_Die. Die. Die. Die._"

"Do you always ask your customers such ignorant and personal questions?" Lucifer burst out, after biting his tongue so hard to the point it bled shallowly.

"Watch yer tongue, ye slug! It only be some innocent small talk," the turtle-driver barked as if it was matter-of-factly.

"Innocent small talk about if I missed my father that abandoned me as a child or my mother who couldn't stop stealing until she was thrown in jail for life, about if I missed my parents, who because of them screwed my whole life over, screwed any chances of me amounting to anything! The same parents who put a red stamp on my forehead that screamed 'unstable orphan' and will forever hinder me from being a success at anything! Asking me if I ever loved them? Yes. Asking me if they're dead? I don't care."—a silence reigned where now only the patter of the rain against the roof could be heard—"Stop the car; I don't want you to drive me anywhere. I hate you," outraged Lucifer, his face flushed with bewilderment.

"Excuse me! You wanna run that by me again, lad? I don't want yer rotten attitude in me car and I don't have to have it either—get out," demanded Kapp'n, slamming his foot on the brakes.

The brake peddle tapped the ground and did nothing. Again, Kapp'n pressed it down until he was screaming sailor swears, each time nothing happened besides a hollow thud of the peddle smacking the floor, a lazy gasp.

The taxi did not stop, but began to swerve around the road, water from the brewing storm splashing wildly.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Jolting fear welling up inside him, Lucifer tried to talk rationally, but something within him bound his insides.

Finally: "The brakes, you miserable cabbie, use the breaks!" Lucifer howled as the car swerved around the road, sharply whipping him from side to side in the tight constriction of the seatbelt.

"Aye lad, what in the blazes do ye thinks I'm doin'?!" Kapp'n roared while stomping his feet on the brake peddle and grunting with each time it thudded and failed.

"Take your foot off the gas peddle! Just stop the car somehow you idiot!"

Lucifer continued to be tossed around within his belt, the sharp recoil of the spiny belt lashing, ripping and digging into him.

Instead of steering sensibly, Kapp'n kept on trying the brake.

After a sharp slip of the tires on the wet road, Kapp'n let go of the steering wheel and the taxi went off the road and into what appeared to once be a farming field but now left to dead. First dropping over a ditch, the erratic vehicle plowed through everything in its path with relative ease.

Screams, vulgar swears, screeching, agonized metal and heavy rain all blared in Lucifer's ears and ricocheted mightily around his brain—making his senses whir.

Lucifer was sat in the seat, his body being kept in place by the withering seat belt that was stretched across his chest and neck.

As Kapp'n continued to lose control, Lucifer's body strained against the belt and it tightened around his neck—he couldn't breathe. All Lucifer could feel was the stinging sensation against his neck and gravity driving him against the belt—the opposite way he wished to go. Lucifer saw the world flash and blackout around him.

His eyes clotting with slurs and blots, he reached down to unbuckle the seat belt. His fingers desperate and blind managed to press down on the button. The buckle retreated, flying upward, the metal part striking him across the face.

He managed to swallow back the sour blood which filled his mouth just before he was thrown against the back of the passenger seat. His arms and legs flailing and caught of guard, he embraced the seat gracelessly. The taxi wrenching, he was pulled back to his seat again brutally, his head bobbing viciously back and forth with the intimidating sound of his bones snapping like a whip.

Striking an obstacle, the car made a slow, creaking sound—the passenger side door imploded, its glass a bitter flurry of shallow slices inside the car. Lucifer dove to the right door, his eyes looking past the rainy, steamy window. Searching, he came across what they had struck. An idle stump.

For a second, Lucifer thought the taxi would stop its nosedive, the atmosphere was soundless and Lucifer vaguely thought he could hear the mutters of Kapp'n praying, waging the lives of his loved ones for his survival, babbling lowly and repenting what ever sins he had committed in return for his deity to restore him safe passage.

The creaking started up again, but gradually. It grew shriller, and there was a deep gurgle of something beneath him, on the bottom of the car. Raising his knees to the seat, he looked out the back window. Clearing the steam quickly with his open palm, Lucifer witnessed what looked like a miniature mudslide. Sliding over everything in its path and claiming that everything with it, much like the car did, the mud racing down the hill with large force. As the car began to rock, he was clear it was becoming clogged beneath the car's bottom.

There was an ear-shattering grind, and the car dropped down a sudden slope, and like experiencing the drop of a rollercoaster, Lucifer felt his breath be robbed from his very throat—too dry and astonished to muster a scream.

It struck something else which swept Lucifer from the seat completely and cast him to the floor like a mere ragdoll. Rain from the caved in passenger door sprinkled on Lucifer's face, giving him an inner sense of surrealism. After a series of tedious and almost mechanical dins, the taxi was now rolling downhill on its side.

As it flipped this way and that way, Lucifer felt the windows around him shatter and the metal bend twisted. With each full revolution of the taxi, Lucifer would stay shakily in place. He used his hands to grip desperately the driver seat's bottom, so hard he thought he could feel the metal he clutched indent his flesh, but as it turned relentlessly, his bottom half would slam off the car's interior.

Glass flew about the vehicle from the smashed windows, shards slicing Lucifer's face. Soothing his oozing cuts, the chilling rain from the storm also spurt from the broken windows, coating the entire interior that would slosh with its spinning.

During the car's seemingly endless downward spiral, Lucifer's thigh erupted with a demanding twinge. Daringly, he unhooked one of his hands from the driver seat's bottom and slapped it upon the thigh. This was it, this was all it took. His remaining arm shuddering with exertion, buckled. His body tumbling to the whim of the car, he was caught in the cycle. Like a petrified cat dropped an outlandish height, Lucifer had his fingers erected like unsheathed claws and his face pinned back in unknowing horror. As the car tossed him against the back seat, he curled his fingers against its top and hoped for the best, clutching his body against the stone-hard seat with all the ambition left coursing throughout him.

Seconds later, the force had pried him from the seat.

The cab bawled of anguish as the frame of the car cracked beneath Lucifer, crippling the steel instantly. His carcass seeming held in center of the cycle, suddenly was ripped downward and ruthlessly the car tossed Lucifer to the floor, torn steel which protruded through the mat dug into his side, tearing his coat.

With a cringing gasp and adrenalin enduring all the blows, Lucifer reached for the door handle. Straining his reach, but failed, his fingers merely brushed it as the tumbling car threw him against the seat yet again.

Lucifer felt blood churn in his mouth, it gathered and swelled in his throat; it tasted warm and dully metallic. Beginning to gag, he coughed up more. Sputtering from his clenched jaw, it splattered the mat around him. The lash of the rain now frigid, Lucifer's skin crawled as it assaulted him again.

He felt the back seat cave into itself much like a mouth; it spit him away and crushed him against the passenger seat.

"_I can't die, no, not yet, I was just released from my prison! If I die here what am I remembered for? My eulogy nothing but a dismal collection of police records and mug shots_!" Lucifer thought frantically as more water and lingering glass grazed him. "_I will get out_."

His body pressed and compacted closely, he scrambled across the mat as the seats were driven into him. Uselessly, the car flipped. Lucifer dropped to the roof, smacking his knees against the dented metal—it rang hollowly and apathetically. As he fell a wayward piece of the seat was cast in his direction. Flailing his limbs and sliding against the rain-soaked bottom, he dodged it. Quickly recoiling, Lucifer darted across the roof and to the right-side door—he would jump, there was no other way.

Standing in the sloshing water with his knees, he reached up for the handle. The car spun. He was tossed onto his back, the freezing rain water fleeting from under him. Down for less than a second, he was now gripping the handle; it was awkward due to it being upside down but he viciously threw it opened. With the force of his shoulder charging it, it expelled a weary cry before ripping open. Its sudden movement shocking, Lucifer staggered backward so not to fall out unprepared. He brought his arm to shield his face from entrails of the earth which sputtered and lumped into the car.

The backdoor slapped against the imploded passenger door, it grinded abrasively. It swung off its hinges and was pitifully dragged against the ground for a mere three seconds before the brittle hinges snapped and the door soared through the air.

For a split moment, Lucifer was lulled by the flickering colors of the ground beneath him as they darted past his eyes in a collage of shapes and colors.

"_I'm out; I'm going to survive this!_"

With the sound of the metal screeching, the taxi hit a large rock which spun it another way, smacking Lucifer against the back window. Pain accumulating where it struck, Lucifer's hand darted to his hip.

His back partially shattered the window, the glass around where he hit was strewn with deep cracks. Lucifer spun to his back side and readied his feet, coming to the conclusion jumping out the side door could result in him misjudging and being taken captive by the barbaric hunk of metal which currently entrapped him.

Without hesitation he kicked out the back window, shielding his face with his arms from the eager debris and wave of mud which washed him over.

Scurrying to his stomach, he went to jump, but second guessed himself. Peering out the back window, part of the trunk drooped over where he had to jump out. Not only that, but a steel pipe was twisted outward like an executioner denying him life. Again he readied himself to leap, but feinted, his mind not able to mend around the possibility of striking his back off the jutting pole.

Breathing deeply and trying to comfort himself, he thought of that ignorant cabbie suddenly. He turned around to where he was sat and out the beaten windshield he saw a huge oak tree just after a dip in the slope. The over-turned taxi was hurdling towards it and bound to collide, and that would surely be the end, this crippled dungeon would simply mold around the solid tree, snapping his body instantaneously and without any trace of remorse.

Without time for further disposition, Lucifer swallowed his skepticism and then leapt from the hood of the taxi and out the window, keeping his chin to his chest and his arms and legs together.

Rain water slapping his body and stung like a belly flop. In mid-jump, he felt the twisted exhaust pipe tear through his shirt and flesh. Bracing himself, Lucifer fell into the murky mud with a heavy splash, it rising high around him as if he was a bomb.

The taxi continued to plummet down the hill for mere seconds before bashing against the tree. It finally stopped; the final roar of snapping metal exploding into the air.


End file.
